


Quiet Rooms

by nbwriter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, Grimmauld Place, Hearing Voices, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Post-Sirius Black in Azkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 21:22:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15957806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbwriter/pseuds/nbwriter
Summary: 12 Grimmauld Place was  never silent.





	Quiet Rooms

"At least you’ll have some peace and quiet for once."

That had been the last thing that Remus said to him as he, and every other member of the Order of the Phoenix, had left from their latest meaning. It was meant to be a statement of comfort, that after years in the constantly echoing, bedlam halls of Azkaban, Sirius would finally have a few moments of quiet.

How wrong Remus was.

The most obvious noise was the screaming of his mother’s portrait. The shrouded black curtain served to block most of her incessant screaming, but, on occasion either Tonks would trip and accidentally pull the curtain aside or Kreacher would purposely open it just to spite Sirius, and her shrill words would ring throughout the entire house. 

Sirius had long since perfected the act that the harsh words of his mother didn’t bother him. That’s what he had told James when he received the letter telling him of his disownment, as he had casually crumpled the paper and tossed it into the bin with a smile on his face. That’s what he had told Regulus as his brother had shouted cruel words at him from across the Great Hall. Sirius Black was a presence louder than life and nothing could tarnish his cheery disposition.

Or so he had convinced himself. Truth be told, every snide comment, every hurtful statement, every cruel jibe stung like a barb at Sirius’ heart. Even now, even after the twenty years since he had last seen his mother, he still felt that betrayal of the woman who was supposed to be his protector.

Not quite as noticeable were the sounds of Kreacher slinking around the house. More often than not, he was quiet, content to stay in his hideaway spot under the boiler. That was the way Sirius liked it. 

But there were times when Kreacher would rattle through the house, creating a terrible racket. He would bang pots and pans in the kitchen, insistent on making meals just the way his Mistress had liked, even though she was nine years dead. The food would sit directly under the portrait for days on end, and would remain there until Sirius was forced to remove it as the smell became too strong. 

Kreacher would trundle by, arms laden down with whatever useless, broken stuff he had found in Regulus’ room. There would be loud banging noises from the basement, though Sirius had never mustered the curiosity to go down there and see what all the racket was.

Sirius could deal with his mother’s screaming. He could deal with the racket Kreacher made. What he couldn’t deal wasn’t even audible to the others.

The loudest noises in 12 Grimmauld Place were the voices in Sirius’ own head. 

More often than not, the voice in his head was his own. Or some broken, twisted version of himself that had been created in Azkaban. This was the version that he hid from Harry, and Remus, and everyone else. This was the voice that tormented him, screamed at him, blamed him. This was the voice that reminded him that this was his fault, that he had trusted Peter, that he was the reason Harry would never know his father’s laugh or his mother’s gentle embrace. 

Sometimes, the voice would be those of his dead friends. ‘Why did you let this happen?,’ James would say. ‘Why didn’t you protect Harry?,’ Lily would ask. Sirius longed to cry out, to tell them it wasn’t his fault, that he couldn’t have known. But those bitter lies would die on his tongue, as he knew there was no one else to blame.

Every now and again, in a very very long while, the voices would stop. Sirius would be left alone in his own head, nothing but his own thoughts to rattle around the cavernous space. Though in a way, that was almost worse. He would be left alone, again, by everyone that had seemed so constant in his life. 

So, no. Sirius wasn’t glad for the empty house. For his demons were his company, and they were there to stay.


End file.
